Ready To Go
by coffeecupcakegirl
Summary: This story tries tying up the loose ends and find some answers to the questions not answered by the final season...
1. We've Already Missed The Spring

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**We've Already Missed The Spring**

* * *

"Oh, and Lorelai – if you see Luke – tell him that he and he alone is responsible for all party cleanup!"

"Okay!"

"Hey Lorelai! You wanna make a Morey sandwich?"

"Maybe later, Babette."

No, she didn't want a sandwich, no Morey sandwich, no Tuna BLT, no nothing. She wanted to see Luke. She needed to talk to him. Tell him how fabulous this whole party was. How Rory was out of herself with joy about it. How _she_ was out of herself with joy for having the chance of spending the last day with her in such a special way, among all their friends. How she could never ever repay him for his kindness of doing all this for them.

What had her dad said earlier today? "This is for you as well, Lorelai," right?

Was it? Some part of her – her guts, perhaps – said it was so, and speaking of her guts – they were suddenly swarming with bees. What should she say? What _could_ she say? And where _was_ he?

He was nowhere to be seen at the party, so her best guess was the diner. She headed there with firm strides, ignoring the little voice in her head practically screaming at her, 'Whatcha think you're doing?! He doesn't care for you the same way! You're better off as friends!'

'But he's done all this! You wanted a sign – some sign – and here it is,' another voice – the gut voice – said just as persistently.

'But he's done this for Rory!'

'Well, even if! I'll just say thanks!'

And then the fight was over because she spotted Luke coming out of the diner, a bag of coals in his hands. Her heart was beating so hard that she vaguely thought she didn't need the rollercoaster trip she had planned with Rory; walking down this street was nerve-wrecking enough.

"Hey –"

"Hey –"

She sighed and looked at her own feet before forcing herself to look straight into his eyes again. She'd come here to tell him thanks, yes, that was what she had meant to do, tell him – tell him –

"Thank you!"

"Ah… It was no big deal…"

He made a little gesture indicating she was welcome, and all her eloquence let her down in this moment. There was so much she meant to tell him, but she had lost her command of the entire English language. "Luke…"

"I just – like to see you happy."

The only thing she grasped was that it was true. He truly wanted her to be happy. He always, always had. But to _be_ happy… To be happy she needed _him_. She had been happier with him than with anyone else, ever, and the intensity of that sudden realisation made her as dizzy as that look on his face over there right now. She tried to smile – he dropped the coals – and somehow, _somehow_ she was in his arms and his lips were on hers and _thank God and Andy Griffith_ that he swung his arm around her so tightly, because she was on the verge of swaying with that outburst of genuine blissfulness.

Luke Danes wasn't perfect. Far from it, in the eyes of many a person, surely. He was grumpy, and he had a hard time letting his feelings show, and he liked things slow, and calm, and without caffeine, in short, without all that which Lorelai embodied. No, he wasn't perfect, but he was perfect to _her_, not only in this moment there in the middle of the street, not only because Rory would leave Stars Hollow tomorrow before dawn and God knew when she might come back, and her mother was in need of some comfort. She needed him and she wanted him regardless of all the other stuff, and if he'd only keep on holding her tight like this…

Of course, they had been kissing _a lot_ in the course of time. They had been kissing after making up after fights too, and quarrels, and their separation two years ago. But even that night back then had not tasted so bittersweet like their kiss right here, after being apart for a little more than a year, after everything that had happened. They interrupted the kiss to catch some breath, their foreheads touched, and with her eyes still closed, she whispered, "Don't let go…"

"I won't if you let me."

She chuckled. "Oh, trust me, I do!"

And then they kissed again, and Lorelai took _quite_ a while to realise that their reunion (but was it a reunion? Or just the heat of the moment, a little fleeting kiss – no, surely, _fleeting_ didn't match the feeling – but…) had not remained unnoticed by the other townspeople. The next time she looked, she saw Taylor nearby, gawking, and Kirk next to him, sticking a finger into his ear and wriggling it, looking hardly less dumbfounded. Gipsy walked by, her brows raised so high, they disappeared underneath her fringe, and Lorelai couldn't help it but laugh.

"You know what?" she asked him flatly.

"What?"

"I'd love to stay here with you, exactly like this, but after all the trouble you've had bringing about this party, and seeing that I've got a kid that will abandon me in –" She checked her watch. "In less than ten hours in order to pursue fame, glory and the Pulitzer Prize…"

"Yes. We better get back." He let go of her and picked up the bag of coals again.

She was immediately back at 'distressed' and cried, "But – we'll see each other – right?"

A little smirk played around his lips. "I'll be near the grill if you're looking for me."

"Good!" She gave a loud, relieved sigh, and a little cheeky, added, "I want a burger. Make that two burgers. Medium, please. I won't take any old burger, you know, it's got to be –"

"I know how you like your burgers, Lorelai."

Their gazes locked; she whispered, "And will you reserve one – two, I mean – for me?"

"They'll be waiting for you, ready whenever you want them," he replied very earnestly, and overwhelmed by affection, she tiptoed and brushed another kiss on his lips, before resolutely grabbing his hand and pulling him back to the party.

She got her burgers, by the way. And they were perfect. She told him exactly that – that she had never eaten a better, more perfect burger, and he laughed at her, but in a very amiable way. She endured all the quizzical looks of the other people (and was deeply grateful that at least Richard and Emily had left already); Sookie squeezed her so tightly with elation that Lorelai nearly suffocated, and then came Rory, who had the broadest of grins plastered onto her face.

"Guess what I heard," she said innocently.

"The Police will do a revival tour."

"Guess what else I heard."

"Senator Obama prefers tea over coffee, which is giving you so severe second thoughts about your assignment that you seriously contemplate to stay here and go with me on the rollercoaster tour instead –"

"He could be drinking Mate tea for all I care and I'd still go on the campaign trail."

"Shoo, daughter of mine! Did I teach you nothing?!"

"One of the things you've taught me is being persistent when persistence is needed, so don't you try deviating. I _heard_ that my mother has been spotted snogging with a certain local man."

"I've kissed the man organising all this for you, and said thanks –"

"Luke did this?" Rory made big eyes.

"All by himself, yeah. For you."

The girl laughed and flew around her mother's neck. "Not only for me, Mom," she exclaimed. "As you well know! Oh, you asked for a sign! There you go! Oh, I _told_ you!"

"You do enjoy being right, don't you, Miss Know It All?"

"Not as much as knowing that you'll be in good hands when I can't be looking after you!"

"Hey!" She took a deep breath. "Though I'm not sure that – well, it was only kiss after all…"

"Are you trying to kid me, or yourself, Mom? It is _so_ obvious he's _not_ over you, and _you're_ clearly not over him either – if you want any proof, take a look at your divorce papers."

She spoke jokingly, but that mention gave her mother a sharp pang of – well, guilt, maybe. "Your dad and I – we didn't – it wasn't just because of Luke, Rory, you mustn't blame –"

"I'm not blaming anyone, Mom. You've separated because you couldn't love him the way a wife should love her husband, that's all, and I know that. Whether this has anything to do with the fact that you're in love with Luke – well, I'll let you figure that one out yourself."

The rest of the evening passed in a haze; Lorelai couldn't make up her mind whether she felt happy beyond expression because Luke and she had kissed – and flirted a bit over the grill – or whether she was deeply saddened because she'd have to let Rory go in the next morning, or whether it was possible to be feeling both at the same time. They left the party at half past twelve, among the other last guests, to give Rory a bit of a chance to sleep some hours at least.

"Did you like your party?" Lorelai asked when her daughter laid down in her bed, wearing her oldest pyjamas, because she had, of course, packed all her good ones. Her only good ones, to be precise. Oh well, why make bones about it – Emily had bought her some nice pairs of pyjamas, there had been no way stopping her.

"I loved every minute of it. It was very nice of Luke to invite Grandma and Grandpa, too."

"I think that Sookie took care of that bit, actually."

"You know what I mean."

Lorelai nodded, almost melancholically. "Shall I tell you something funny?"

Rory smirked roguishly. "Grandma lured you into coming to dinner on Friday. She told me on the way to their car."

"Did she tell you as well that she admonished me not to come in jeans?"

"You look great in jeans."

"I know! That woman has no sense for sex appeal!"

Rory reached out for her mother's hand. "I'm glad you'll go. It clearly means a lot to Grandma, you know?"

"Yes, I know… I don't know how it'll go though. Without you –"

"You've dined with them without me before."

She set her alarm clock, and Lorelai exclaimed, "Hey! I _said_ I'll wake you up!"

"Yes, you did, but you and I both know that it wouldn't be the first time when you sleep late –"

"Likely excuse! That happened – like one time – do you really have to harp on and on about it? Besides – I take it that if you should miss that plane, you'd be excluded from the trail and –"

"And that is _exactly_ why I'll sleep so much better with my dear old alarm clock ticking next to me."

Lorelai pulled the blanket a little higher and tugged her up like she used to do when Rory was small still. "I love you, kid."

"Love you too, Mom…"

She bowed down and kissed Rory's forehead. "Sleep well, sweetie. Dream of me."

"Same back at ya – just that I hope you'll not be dreaming of _me_."

"That's right. I'll try dreaming of my other daughter – your replacement. The kid that never leaves her mommy, but lives with her until she's old and grey… A female version of Kirk, basically."

"He'd look cute with long hair and pigtails."

They both cracked up, and Lorelai tried shaking off the vision of Kirk with pigtails when she shut the bedroom door behind her after all. She didn't go to bed though, but headed straight back to the town square. Luke wasn't the only one tidying up there; Morey was there as well, so were Zach and Brian, Andrew and some others. Lorelai's heart was beating madly again, the harder the closer she came, and she raised her hand to half a wave. "Private Gilmore reporting to service, Sir," she said with fake boldness once she was in Luke's earshot.

He smiled and shook his head. "What are you doing here? Go back home and _sleep_! You've got a long day ahead of you!"

"Ts! Sleep! You think I could _sleep_? Come on, tell me what needs to be done next."

Loads of things needed to be done indeed, and he didn't seriously try warding her off. They took down the makeshift awnings and tarps, folded them and carried them over to Miss Patty's, where the respective owners would come to fetch them in the next morning. Andrew and Morey cleared away the grills, Lorelai and Zach collected all the empty bottles and glasses and cups and took them over to Luke's, and in the storeroom she bumped into the owner and the flutter in her stomach returned with a vengeance.

"Where's Ceasar?" she asked lightly – at least she tried to go for 'lightly', even if it might not sound like this.

"I sent him home early. At least one of us needs to be well rested tomorrow morning and see after the diner."

"So you'll take a day off tomorrow?"

This had definitely not sounded 'lightly', but curious, perhaps even hopeful, and he gave her an awkward glance in reply that was worthy of her own embarrassment. No teen in the Stars Hollow High would behave so insecurely, surely, or only the worst geeks would, and if there was one thing that Lorelai Gilmore had never been, it was this – she had never been a geek, and as for Luke – well, _he_ had been a successful athlete at school, he certainly hadn't had much occasion for such utter embarrassment facing the opposite sex either…

"Yeah, I'll take the morning off," he murmured. "Ceasar will come at ten –"

"Ten?! Oh my! But how is Rory supposed to survive the journey if she doesn't get a proper breakfast?! This might well be her last chance until Thanksgiving to get a decent cup of coffee, you know, and –"

"When will you have to leave for the airport?"

"The plane takes off at 10.35, so we need to be there at seven –"

"Seven?!"

"Yeah, you know Rory, she likes being earlier than necessary, just to make sure. However, we'll have to leave at five thirty –" She saw his eyebrows rise, and sniggered. "Just in case there's any construction work on the road to Hartford, obviously –"

"Come here at five," he interrupted her. "I can't let Rory go without a good breakfast. God knows what she'll have to eat on the road for the next four months."

"Oh, I packed Twinkies in her bag, and Fritos, and vanilla Zingers –"

"Be here at five _exactly_."

"Oh Luke! You'll cook breakfast for my child?" she asked coyly, glad they got back to their routine of quibbling.

"On a second thought, I should consider sending the poor girl care packages!"

"Great. You can give me your stuff, because I'll be sending her bags of snacks every week, and –"

"You'll poison the kid with fast food."

"That's my secret plan, yes. She'll come home, don't you think, once she's got a gastric ulcer?"

His expression turned very tender. "She'll be fine, Lorelai. And… I'm a hundred percent positive that she'll miss you just as much as you'll miss her."

She couldn't help it, she got teary-eyed, and without hesitation, Luke stepped closer and swung an arm around her, allowing her to press her face against his chest. "Rory will be fine, and _you_ will be fine, too. You will know that this is what she always wanted to do, that it makes her happy doing it, and that will make _you_ happy in turn."

"Yeah," she moaned, knowing he was right, grateful that he was there in this moment, and cautiously hopeful that he might be there in the time to come as well. He stroked her back, when Zach burst in with a box of empty bottles.

"Sorry!" he gasped, dropped the box and hurried out again.

Lorelai started to laugh and wiped her tears away. "You've got to send Zach home," she said.

"Oh, he'll rally again from the shock."

"I'm sure he will, but he'll have to be fit tomorrow."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. He'll have to help Ceasar so that his boss can steer clear of the diner the whole day."

"Is that so?"

She let her hand glide up to his neck and gently pulled him down. "Mmh-mh, it is," she muttered before closing in for a kiss.

Clearly, Zach didn't dare coming into the storeroom again after this little intermezzo, and when they next heard him in the diner, Luke called for him and told him to go home, and come back in the morning to assist Ceasar.

"Because he'll not be here," Lorelai added with a broad grin. "You kids will have to manage the diner all by yourselves!"

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The chapter title is a reference to _An Affair To Remember_ from 1957.


	2. Lay Your Sleeping Head, My Love

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**Lay Your Sleeping Head My Love**

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Rory caught her plane. Of course she did. Lorelai managed to bite down the tears until her daughter had vanished out of sight, then she cried a bit – and some more on the way back to Stars Hollow. When she parked her car around the corner of the diner, the tears had dried again with increasingly giddy anticipation, and with her most brilliant smile she went inside, sobering up considerably though once she spotted Zach and Ceasar. Right. Luke had given in to her persuasion and agreed to take the day off. Her loveliest smile was so totally wasted on these guys.

Ceasar pointed at the ceiling, leering, and Zach cried, "The boss's upstairs."

She wanted to let him sleep; the poor guy had not slept for two nights now, he must be beyond exhausted. Zach, however, pushed a huge mug into her hand and explained, "He said that, in case you'd be showing up here, we should equip you with some coffee and send you upstairs."

"He said that?" she cried, and thanked her fortune that neither Miss Patty nor Babette were here to make the most of this display of gushing worthy of a fourteen-year-old dying to meet her big high school crush. Zach merely nodded, and feeling a little awkward once more, Lorelai slid behind the counter and quickly walked upstairs, sipping her coffee.

Timidly, she knocked, hearing him answer, "Come in!" He was sitting at the table, apparently reading the newspaper, and smiling at her now. "Lorelai!"

"Why aren't you sleeping?"

"I did sleep a bit after you and Rory left," he answered, and added with a grin, "But if you thought I were sleeping – why are you here?"

"Scientific purposes. I'm researching about the sleeping patterns of…" She bit her lip and shrugged. "To be perfectly honest – I didn't even think about it. I just wanted to see you."

He had got up and come over, hesitating a little and tentatively reaching out without actually touching her. "I hoped you'd stop by…"

"Yes?" There it was again, Lorelai Gilmore's Most Brilliant Smile, as heartfelt as it was radiant. And it worked its magic on Luke Danes as well; he conquered his inhibitions and took her hand, and in the next moment, they had wrapped their arms around each other. Lorelai thought she couldn't hold him tightly enough; trying to take in all at once, the familiar feeling of his embrace, the familiar smell of his aftershave – hang on… "You've shaved!"

He chuckled. "Yes."

"Why did you do that?"

He chucked her under the chin and made her look into his eyes. "So I can do this better," he murmured and brushed a very gentle kiss on the side of her mouth. Lorelai couldn't have helped it, she gave a little moan of delight, and another when he kissed her temple; she cupped the back of his head, and wouldn't even have noticed that she had started to cry if he hadn't stopped kissing her and given her a dismayed look instead.

"Don't stop," she whispered hoarsely.

"What's wrong?"

"Wrong? Nothing's wrong!" As if to enhance his point, he wiped a tear off her cheek, and utterly astonished she watched his thumb that was glittering with her own tears. "Don't – you mustn't take this amiss, Luke! I… I'm just so – well, I guess overwhelmed is the word. I've so hoped for this to happen, and I'm so happy, and at the same time I think I'm a bad mother for feeling so very good about myself on the very day when I've put my daughter on a plane to far-far-away land, and – please, just don't stop…"

"You do know that you are the best mother that any child could dream of, right?"

She weakly lifted her shoulders for half a shrug and forced herself to smile. "I hope so."

He winked at her. "Except for your eating habits. It's a miracle Rory grew as tall as she did."

She sniggered as well. "She's got that from my dad, rather than my feeding her."

"True. Your feeding her can't have made any impact at all, or she'd be weighing three hundred pounds."

They joked around some more, not loosening the embrace, until Lorelai finally said with emphasis, "I want you to know that I was perfectly serious with what I said."

"With the bit about LaVona Harding, or –"

"With the bit about being overwhelmed of being here – like this – with you," she cut him short. "I'm scared I'll wake up any moment now and it's Rory's real last day, and you've planned no party for her, and that the last thing in the world you'd _ever_ contemplate was kissing _me_ of all people. Like the time back then when I dreamt of you standing in our kitchen, cooking breakfast for me and the twins and kissing my belly –"

He kissed her forehead. "You are the only one I want to kiss, Lorelai, and this is no dream. But I do have a suggestion for you – you'll go home and have a nice nap, and tonight –"

"I have a better suggestion if it's all right by you. We'll _both_ take a nap – Jesus, you must be so tired after the two last nights, you're much more in need of a bit of rest than me – and we'll take that nap together. I'd like to be falling asleep next to you…"

"Deal," he said and smiled, and this was what they did. Fully clothed, they laid down on his bed, snuggling up to each other and finding their old, familiar sleeping positions together, her head on his shoulder, his hand on her hip, their legs entwined.

"This is so good," she whispered tiredly, and a few minutes later, listening to his calm breathing and his heartbeat, feeling safe and sound and in the world's best hands, she had fallen asleep already. When she woke up again it was six in the afternoon, and Luke next to her was still slumbering. They had hardly moved an inch and she only moved ever so slightly to be capable of seeing his face better.

Oh, how she had missed this! Sleeping in the arms of Luke was indescribable. She couldn't imagine feeling safer, or more at ease – even on a day like this. He had held her on far worse occasions – back then when Rory had dropped out of Yale and moved in with Emily and Richard, for example, and it had always felt so much easier with him around. Nobody had ever made her feel this way. Not Max, and certainly not Christopher either. None of them had ever given her the feeling to be fine _exactly_ the way she was, and to stick with her, and stand by her no matter what was to come. She knew that she was a complicated person, that she had many quirks and bad habits and peculiarities that others found hard to deal with. Luke had always accepted them. No, not only accepted, that sounded so indifferent, or even forbearing. He had given her the feeling to love her all the better for them even. _That_ was the point.

She made a big thing of the first snow of the year? He'd build an ice rink for her. She could impossibly buy a new car because she was so attached to her old, broken one? He'd find a replacement motor so she could keep her old junker. She'd annoy the hell out of him – and he'd make a Santa burger for her.

Careful not to wake him up, she murmured under her breath, "You are the most wonderful man I've ever met, Luke Danes, and I swear, if you should still want me after everything I've done to you, I'll never, _never_ let you down again…"

She relished watching him sleep, taking in all the familiarity of his face, and the teeny, tiny changes that had happened since she had last been so close to him. There were some new, fine lines around his eyes, and those on his forehead had deepened the slightest bit. She thought he was a bit thinner than he had used to be – seriously, how could a man work in a kitchen all day long and be such a marvellous cook, and not constantly indulge on his own delicacies and fatten up like Mickey Rourke in the Nineties?

His eyelids began to flutter at half past six; she whispered in his ear that he should rest some longer still, making him laugh instead and open his eyes wide. He tightened his grip around her shoulders. "I cannot believe you're really here."

"I'm not. This is actually my hologram only; the real Lorelai is downstairs eating a huge plate of Fries."

"The hair of your hologram smells lovely. New shampoo?"

She was smart enough not to tell him that this was actually a rest she had found when packing Rory's stuff, and that she had bought the bottle in Paris. "Rory's," she lied smoothly and traced his jaw with her finger. "Seriously though – you should sleep some more."

"No, I don't think so. Now that you're here, I want to enjoy every minute of it."

"I won't run away. I promise!"

"But we'll both have to get back to work tomorrow morning, and I'm not ready to go back to the usual routine just yet. I want to seize this day. I can be tired all day tomorrow, and vent it on Ceasar."

"Poor Ceasar!"

"He can take it. He's used to it."

"Didn't you say he was all keen on taking over the diner for the summer? When you still planned to go sailing with April?" she asked pensively.

"Yes…?"

"So – you'd be free for some time, theoretically? You could go on holiday if you liked?"

"I suppose so. Why?"

He smirked, knowing pretty well what she had in mind, and with her sauciest expression she elaborated, "Well, I thought, _if_ you were in the mood for it, we could go away for a couple of days. Fishing or so."

"_Fishing?!_"

"Yeah. You like fishing!"

"But _you_ hate it!"

"I don't hate it. I still have that nice little outfit, in case you remember."

"How could I forget it? You're likely to be the first person ever who killed a fish by making it laugh so hard it suffocated!"

"Hey!" She gave him a gentle smack. "Watch it, Mister. That fish didn't die laughing at my _outfit_. I think it was my technique that killed him."

He chuckled until his face turned very earnest. "I'll go roller-coasting with you if you like, Lorelai."

"But you couldn't care less for roller coasters, right?"

"But I could impossibly care more for _you_. And I don't want to see you cheated out of your dream holidays."

She had no suitable reply for _that_ assessment – _could impossibly care more for you_, he had said – and kissed him stormily, one thing leading to the other, and… Oh well. The next time she had enough breath and leisure to look, it was a quarter to eight. "I have missed you like crazy, you know that?"

"No, I didn't _know_ that. I might have _hoped_ for it, a little… But it's nice hearing it all the same."

She asked him if he had missed her as well; he stifled a smile and stalled giving a reply, so she started bugging him until he gave up. He gave her a long, affectionate and mock-strict look. "Did I miss you bothering me? I missed it like hell." He pecked a kiss on her cheek. "I missed _you_ like hell, Lorelai Gilmore. – Is that what you wanted to hear?"

"Heck, yes!" She kissed him back. "Can't hear enough of it! I want to hear _everything_. I want to hear how much you missed me, if you dreamt of me and if so, what, and what you've been thinking and what you did to get by without me…"

He smiled sadly. "You truly want to hear all that?"

She understood and was cross with herself for her tactlessness, but since she had touched the awkward subject anyway, she thought she could just as well tell him what had been on her mind. She played with the hairs on his chest and began, "I can tell you what _I_ was thinking… I've been thinking of you all the time, and I dreamt of you three times a week, so much in fact that I was scared to say your name at night and –"

She bit her lip, ready to slap herself and his melancholic expression increased that desire still. "And?" he asked. "Did you?"

"I have no idea. I might well have, seeing his bottomless jealousy of you."

"I don't get it. You married _him_. How could he be jealous of _me_?!"

"The words 'makeshift', 'stopgap' and 'second choice' were thrown into the argument frequently," she groaned and buried her face on his chest.

He gave a mirthless little chuckle. "He often made me feel the same."

She was silent for a while before propping herself up on her elbows to look him straight in the face. "Do you remember that you once said you'd never be comfortable with Chris being a part of my life?"

"Oh yes, I do."

He got tense, but she went on regardless, "I can't and won't justify what I did that night, but if there's _one_ good thing that's come out of all this mess it must be this – now I _know_ and can promise it to you that there is nothing between him and me –"

"Save for a daughter and a divorce –"

He said it in good humour, however strained, and she laughed, snuggling up to him. "I remember that back then I couldn't give you the same promise, not with full confidence. Look – Chris was my first – and for a very long time only – love. He and I went way back; we've known each other since the cradle, he knows stuff of me that – well, that no one else knows. I thought that meant something more than what it actually does. For so many years I believed that it had only been bad timing, this and that interfering… Now I know for certain that it's him and me that just don't fit. It's a part of my life that was over a long time ago." She gave a beaten little laugh. "Curiously, the part of my life that I always so direly strived to get rid of – the Hartford part, the Emily and Richard's little darling part."

He didn't give an answer, but continued to stroke her hand on his belly. In her most facetious manner, she cried, "But speaking of _them_ – I decided that _now_, where Rory's gone and all official ties with them are severed, I could occasionally drive over and have dinner with them voluntarily. That'd be such a nice change, don't you think?"

"Yeah… They're your mom and dad, after all."

"And terrible snobs. And Republicans."

"So they must think Rory's travelling after the wrong guy?"

She cracked up and pressed against him even more tightly. "I've missed you, Luke."

He whirled his arms around her and seized her close. "I missed you as well… And since you're so bent on hearing it – yeah. I did dream of you. More frequently than I could bear, actually. I had all these pictures in my head of accidentally walking into your wedding – in some dreams I beat up the bridegroom, and then you'd beat _me_ up with your bridal wreathe."

She laughed out loud. "I'd never! The poor, poor flowers!"

"And sometimes I dreamt you'd simply walk into the diner, telling me it was all just a huge misunderstanding and that you were sorry –"

"It _was_ a misunderstanding in some ways! And I _am_ very, very, _very_ sorry! If I could… If only I could undo that one night, I'd do it at once. But I thought you'd never… – That stupid, stupid shrink!"

"Shrink?"

"Oh, that's a long, annoying story for another day – a depressing, rainy November day possibly when I've had dinner with my parents – suffice to say that I'll _never_ listen to some stranger in a car again who listens to my ranting for twenty minutes and tells me then that in her learnt opinion I was a hopeless case and that you would never fully commit to me in a hundred years when _in fact_ you've never been anything else but kind and supportive and solicitous of me and my feelings and my daughter and each and every single of my whims and blunders and –"

"That's because I love you."

"You love me? Even though I'm a neurotic wreck right out of a Woody Allen movie?"

"I love you no matter what, Lorelai."

She was so struck by this, and the expression in his eyes, she barely managed to say that she loved him, too.

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to the first line of a poem by W.H. Auden.


	3. You Want Me, Well Come And Find Me

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**You Want Me, Well F--****ing Well Come And Find Me**

* * *

She pressed the 'send' button, ended the program and shut down the laptop. Behind her, she heard Edgar's snide voice – "Written home to mommy again, Gilmore?"

She ignored him and crammed for her iPod, but before she had put on the earphones, she heard his next remark, "This has got to be the world's longest umbilical cord. Did you make it to the Guinness book of records?"

She turned up the volume and listened to Marah with closed eyes, one of Lane's special insider tips. Edgar wasn't even the worst; he was just the one sitting closest to her. His special brand of nastiness seemed comparably witty; she'd choose to sit next to him over the Sarah Melmans, Ryan Seltzers and Tobin McDonalds on this bus anytime. Sarah was a newbie like Rory; she had just graduated from Columbia and seemed to regard her as her most direct rival – a bit like Paris back then, but without the endearing bits. Sarah was just one big, mean, rich kid who thought the world was her oyster. Ryan and Tobin were in their early thirties and had both tried hitting on her on the very first evening – she had very politely declined – and since then, they missed no opportunity to make fun of her, of the most vulgar and tasteless sort.

There were other people, sure. Brenda, for example, a middle-aged journalist from the Midwest, who could hardly grasp her luck to have got here, and who was pretty nice, but also a pain in the arse, with her incessant babbling and countless quirks, allergies and stories about her six _awesome_ nieces and nephews. She had never gotten round to having kids of her own, apparently, and compensated by making the most of other people's children, parading around photos and 'cute' stories that all had a lot to do with all kinds of bodily functions. Rory felt a bit like Luke whenever she was around Brenda – developing strong tendencies to loathe children on principle, that was.

There were also Ron from San Francisco and Abby from Seattle, who were both kind and funny – but those two had fallen in love on first sight, and Rory wasn't really inclined to play the fifth wheel in their budding romance. Other than that, she hadn't made any friends here, and it seemed more than unlikely that she would. What had she been thinking? That working here would be like working for the Yale Daily News? That they'd be one big family of young journalists, getting along like the best of friends? They sure as hell didn't. Competition and rivalry were the beginning and the end of every bit of interaction among most of them; it wasn't just Rory Gilmore they rejected. In fact, she was pretty well off yet; others were linked by years of bitter competitiveness.

Ryan Seltzer, for example, had gotten a job ten years ago that Meredith Stewart (second row, right, from Chicago and working for another online magazine these days) had had an eye on, and now she left out no chance to make him feel just how much she hated him for this. Or Oscar Vargas and Daniel Kline – they had been a couple for more than two years, until Oscar had cheated on Dan, and now they did their best making each other's lives hell, while trying to keep up appearances of being really professional about their job. During the first week, Dan had erased Oscar's hard drive; Oscar on the other hand had spread rumours about his ex, including allusions about Dan having all kinds of venereal diseases.

Hell, they all made Paris Gellar look like a sociable person who'd take it easy being second. Rory was so homesick, there were no words to describe her misery. Being on one's own was one thing; she liked being by herself. But being constantly surrounded by this bunch of misanthropes and their ill will really started taking its toll. She missed her mom. She missed Paris, and Lane, and Doyle, and Zach, she missed her grandparents, and Lucy and Olivia, she even missed Colin and Finn. Well, most of all – but she must not go there. It was no use.

What might he be doing now? When she had heard that Ron was from San Francisco, it had given her a sharp jolt, as if she had touched an electric current. Why did it have to hurt so badly? And why didn't it get any better? Shouldn't the pain start ebbing away, if ever so slowly? Instead, she thought it was getting worse each day.

She was on shuffle mode, and when the first notes of the next song started tinkling in her earphones, she got instant gooseflesh. Radiohead's Talk Show Host… She had listened to that song all the time after her and Logan's split-up back then, and with the first notes, the same sort of nausea mounted to her throat that she had felt then. She hectically tore off the headphones so she wasn't forced to hear the song while fumbling with the player; still she heard it, only fainter.

Behind her, Edgar sniggered. "Of course their music sucks, Gilmore, but aren't you reacting a bit frantically still?"

She said nothing and was glad to have found the skip button, but checked the screen to make sure she was spared more unpleasant surprises like this one. That evening though, the episode came back to her, and with a vengeance. The bus had made a stop at some diner in the middle of nowhere, and some friendly waitress had poured her the best coffee she had had since leaving Stars Hollow. It wasn't as good as Luke's, no, but it was close enough, and the warm apple pie wasn't bad either. She was sitting with Brenda, Ron and Abby; they talked about this and that, and Rory thought faintly that she hadn't felt that easy in days and days.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Edgar heading for the jukebox in the corner, a big, old-fashioned thing, and she had a fleeting, nasty feeling in her stomach, but then Abby made a joke, and Rory was momentarily distracted again, until – well, until the song started. She registered Edgar's malicious grin, but didn't manage to look unconcerned. Seriously, let Edgar think he had scored that point, what did she care!

She was on her feet in the next second and almost ran to the bathrooms, where the song was still audible, so she turned on the tap and let the water drown it out. This was a terrible waste of resources – only the day before, Senator Obama had held a riveting speech on this topic, making Rory feel rather guilty now. She leaned on the sink and watched the water go down the drain; she didn't bear seeing her own reflection in this moment.

Abby came in. "Are you all right, Rory?"

Rory nodded and muttered, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine."

"I thought you might – did you throw up or something? You ran away so quickly, and…"

"Just a brief indisposition, you know. The heat, the air inside there… I'll be okay in a minute."

"You're homesick, aren't you?" Abby asked tentatively and came closer, putting a hand on Rory's shoulder.

She just chuckled under her breath. "A bit, yeah, but… That's not it."

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to Radiohead's song '_Talk Show Host_' from the album 'OK Computer'.


	4. Momma's Gonna Keep You Right Here

* * *

**Momma's Gonna Kee****p You Right Here Under Her Wing**

* * *

Bless the guy who invented the telephone. And the mobile phone. And the internet. Using all these, additional to the frequent postcards that Rory kept on sending from such exiting places like Oakfield Springs or Langley, Ohio, Lorelai managed to stay in even more constant touch with her daughter than when she had been at Yale still. Which didn't mean that she didn't miss her baby – but Luke was right, she had got used to it in the course of time, and this had been Rory's dream for the last decade or so, so it made her mother happy in turn to see it fulfilled at last.

Between the lines, Lorelai thought she could read some sombre sadness in her daughter's reports, which was only to be expected after the Logan debacle. The little idiot! Daddy's pampered little boy! If he couldn't get what he wanted in the very moment when he wanted it, he'd simply walk away, sulking! Rory was lucky to have got rid of him, that was one thing for sure, and just as surely, Lorelai never spoke this out loud when talking to her child, but didn't hold back when speaking to Luke instead.

"And to think that I actually gave him my _permission_," she nagged. "Tah!"

"Would you feel better if you had not and he had abandoned her because of that?"

She twisted her face. "Ph! I should have put a stop to all this ages ago!"

"And now you remind me frightfully much of your mother," he said good-humouredly and handed her her third cup of coffee.

"That was low! Anyway, this is just like Logan Huntzberger – _any_ member of this family manages single-handedly to bring out the very worst in people. Make an angel like Rory drop out of College and steal a yacht. Turn a serene, laid-back gal such as myself into a raving effigy of her _mother_. Evil, all of them!"

She played with the postcard that had arrived just now; Wendell the postman had spotted Lorelai in the Diner and had given her the card at once. '_I'm fine as always,_' Rory had written, and _something_ told her mother that the opposite must be true She was gone for ten days now, and already feeling bad – how much worse would it be by the end of the summer? On the other hand – in the course of time, Rory was likely to get over the boy more and more, and realise what a moron he was, and consider herself blessed to have got rid of him before it was too late and she had an eight carat ring on her finger.

"You're in a snit about seeing your parents, Lorelai. Why don't you just call and cancel if this bugs you so much?"

True. She really wasn't in the mood to see Emily and Richard, even less regarding… "Yeah, right. Call my mom and tell her only nine hours in advance that I cannot make it tonight. I wouldn't hear the end of this until Rory's kids leave for College!"

The crucial thing was that she'd _have_ to go, there really was no way avoiding it. Because the day after tomorrow she and Luke would go on holiday together indeed – they'd go sailing for a week, and spend another week driving around, visiting roller coasters and other places that Lorelai deemed particularly worthy. She was so much looking forward to this, she occasionally started blurting out songs like Simply Red's Fairground, or 'No one rains on my parade'. To tell the truth – she was a little scared of Emily's power to do exactly that – rain on her daughter's parade. She always did that; it was compulsive.

Lorelai would have to tell her that she'd be going on holiday, which would lead to more questions ("Alone?" Sailing? _You?_ Richard, make sure her life insurance premium is raised for Rory's benefit!"), and since Lorelai had no intention to lie about her revived relationship to Luke, the inevitable would come and she'd have to own up, and she could only imagine her parents' faces. They had accepted the divorce with surprising mildness. But The Return Of Luke Danes – that was something different altogether still.

Not that she was going to be swayed in her own standing – Emily had never really managed so much. Still Lorelai _hated_ the idea that her mother would do everything in her power to dampen her daughter's elation, and that she'd be forced to listen to a torrent of very polite vulgarities about Luke. Their last dinner together – only three days after Rory's departure and Luke's and her reunion – had been so nice. Really _nice_. Well, for their standards, anyway. Naturally, Lorelai hadn't mentioned a _word_ in regard to Luke. Too fresh it had all been still, and much too precious to be spoilt by her mother's malice.

But the moment of truth had come at last; she'd do her best to get through with it, and the perspective of two weeks with Luke, be it on a boat or in a pleasure ground, comforted her over any unpleasantness that her parents could stir up.

She resisted the impulse to put on jeans indeed, to distract her mother and lure her into shooting her arsenal into the wrong direction. Instead she put on a very nice dress – green, that was said to be such a soothing colour, and decidedly unsexy cut. In fact, she had bought it for some Chilton function, and never worn it then because she had had an eye on Max at the time.

"I can't believe you still fit into this thing," Luke remarked casually when he saw her in it. She had stopped by the diner to have a last cup of coffee, 'for the way' – and to get some more kisses for the same purpose and 'the public morale'.

She stopped short and looked down her own dress. "You can impossibly remember this one. I've never worn it before!"

"I remember you showing it to me after buying it," he said, making her marvel. "You might want to consult a doctor; there must be something wrong with your metabolism. 5000 calories per day and still you don't put on any weight. There must be something seriously wrong with –"

"You remember _that_?! You remember some frock I purchased _eight years ago_?!"

"Well, yeah –"

"Quick! What did I wear for Miss Patty's Christmas party in Rory's Second Year at Chilton?"

He frowned at her and shook his head. "You have serious issues."

"Ha! I knew it! You only remember this one because it's so darn ugly."

"Why did you keep it for eight years if you like it so little? And besides –" He gave her an impish look. "At that party, you were wearing jeans and your red jumper with the turtleneck and a very ludicrous reindeer brooch."

She gasped and almost climbed onto the counter in order to get close enough to kiss him. "Luke Danes! You've concealed it for years, but now it's in the open! You're a fashion expert in disguise! You're the new Richard Blackwell! You're –"

He shook his head and vanished in the kitchen, ordering Zach over his shoulder to pour her no more coffee, regardless of the bait she'd try to trick him with. "Unfair," she cried, secretly pleased as punch. He had scarce knowledge of the contents of his _own_ wardrobe – and there wasn't even so much in it to begin with. But he perfectly remembered every silly brooch _she_ had been wearing in the course of years and years and years; he recalled dresses that she hadn't even _worn_ but merely shown to him! It was too sweet for words, and feeling a blend of triumph, endearment and deep, genuine affection, she eventually headed for Hartford to face Herman and Lily.

Her mother opened the door herself, and didn't wait for more than thirty seconds before informing her that the latest maid had handed in her notice only this afternoon. "What happened?" Lorelai asked, knowing about the intrinsic futility of the question.

"I merely asked her – and very politely so, mind you –"

"Of course! Nobody can rant as politely as you, Mom!"

She received a withering glance for this comment, and Emily went on, "I simply asked her to prepare dinner the way _we_ like it, and not by some crazy traditional recipe that's been going round her family for the last two hundred years!"

"Did she do that? Bug you with her own recipes?"

"Yes! Yesterday, she prepared the salad with vinegar instead of lemon juice, and when I demanded to know what she thought she was doing, she had the nerve to tell me that _everyone_ would do it this way where _she_ comes from!"

"Where _did_ she come from?"

"Slovenia, Slovakia, one of those new ones with an 'S'."

"Maybe they really do it differently there?"

Emily gave an exasperated sigh. "Possibly. That's why I told her how _we_ do it, and expressly told her how to prepare the roast tonight."

"Did she leave before or after cooking?"

"Let me put it this way – don't take off your coat. We'll go to _Gilberto's_."

Lorelai tried not to roll her eyes. Her mom's special brand of jingoism had chased away another girl and they'd eat in a fancy-schmancy restaurant; consequently the drama would reach even huger proportions. Of course – in such a public place, Emily and Richard Gilmore knew how to behave themselves. They wouldn't shout, they wouldn't throw with china and cutlery (that could have been fun, at least) – but they would resent their daughter all the stronger for forcing them to restrain themselves in public like that.

"_I_ could try to –"

Her mother cast her an amused look. "Don't be ridiculous, Lorelai. Your talents in the kitchen are en par with your talent for ballet-dancing."

"I meant I could try finding a decent take-away…"

Emily turned from 'amused' to indignant and didn't deign that suggestion worthy for an answer, and not thirty minutes later, they were all sitting around a charming little table at the equally charming (not to say stuffy!) _Gilberto's_, leafing through the menu and in Lorelai's head, the battle went on. One side demanded she should take a cab home later so she could down half a dozen martinis right now, while the other side warned her that she couldn't afford being sloshed when going to war with Emily. That woman was good. She knew how to hit the spots that hurt most, and she managed that with almost every line. Frankly, Lorelai still had a lot to learn from her mother in this respect.

"I'll be away for two weeks," she began gingerly over the first course, straining to look casual and unconcerned.

"Oh yes? Where will you be?"

"Sailing and roller-coasting," Lorelai replied with a wry smile.

"On your own? You can't sail."

'Oh, there you go,' she thought. This was going _exactly_ like anticipated. "No, Mom, not on my own; you think I'm crazy? That'd be much too dangerous. In fact, I met that interesting man on the internet yesterday; we haven't met in real life yet, but he appeared very nice and invited me to go. He said he could hardly wait to be alone with me on open water."

Richard's jaw dropped, but Emily merely shook her head. "If you think it's none of our business, why don't you just say so!"

"I'll be going with Luke."

Additional to the dropped jaw, Richard's brows rose, giving him the appearance of a very astonished carp. Emily just nodded ever so slightly, the tiniest hint of a smile playing around her mouth. "I see," she said. "I hope _he_ can sail."

"He can. It's his boat."

"Will his daughter accompany you?"

"Daughter?!" Richard echoed, getting more agitated by the minute.

"No, April won a place in some summer science camp for the super bright; she can't make it."

"She seems to be an extraordinary girl."

"She is." Lorelai shot her mother a suspicious glance. She hadn't made a single disparaging remark yet, which could only mean she was waiting to drop the big whopper, the H-bomb of nasty remarks so to speak. Emily, however, just kept on smiling – that hardly perceivable, sly little smile of hers.

Instead, Richard gave it a shot. "What does your husband say to that, I wonder!"

They were _really_ good. The Siskel and Ebert of family drama, those two were. How could their daughter have forgotten to plot her game plan without including Emily's foot troops! "My husband?" she asked dryly. "The one I'm getting a divorce from?"

"Well, what do I know how many husbands you've accumulated! I wasn't invited to either wedding!"

"We can invite you to the celebrations once the divorce is through. We were planning a big banquet for the occasion."

Her father raised his voice and spat, "Spare your little jokes for your diner fellow!"

"Richard!"

"No, Emily! I am right and you know it! She's hardly filed for the divorce and already dallies around with the next one!"

"Tone down your voice, I beg you! And seeing that 'the next one' as you call him is 'the last one', too, I'm not sure how you can act all surprised now!"

Lorelai couldn't but goggle at them. One had to hand it to Emily – she was always good for surprises.

Richard on the other hand was not impressed. "A marriage is a serious thing," he niggled, clearly straining to refrain from getting loud. "Do I have to remind you that we both thought they had been rushing into this –"

"Actually, I thought they were late by twenty years," her mother cut him short. "And yes – that wedding clearly wasn't such a good idea. I would suppose that this is the reason why they're getting divorced again after less than four months!"

"Which is awful enough in itself! A woman of thirty-nine, behaving like a seventeen-year-old, eloping to marry, and as soon as the first difficulties arise, she gives up immediately! This is so typical!"

Lorelai gave a mortified gasp, but had no chance to answer because her mother retorted instantly, "The first difficulties?! Let me remind you who was at her side during _both_ of your heart attacks. Christopher was never capable of taking responsibility, be it for Rory or for Lorelai."

Lorelai was flabbergasted, but would nevertheless have liked to insert that she didn't need anybody 'taking responsibility for her'; her parents obviously had no place for her in this exchange though. "Responsibility!" her dad scoffed now. "And that little cook is supposed to be responsible for her now, you think?!"

"He is no cook, but a diner owner," Emily corrected him with a certain amount of spite, making her daughter wonder whether she had lost her sense of direction – she was firing at her own troops!

"I don't _care_ what he is!" He threw his napkin on the table and got up. "You will excuse me for a minute. I had a heart attack – the doctors forbade me unnecessary aggravation!"

He stalked away towards the bathrooms; Lorelai stared after him and braced herself for the consequences. Now that the substitute target had left the room, her mother would no longer fail to hit on her instead. "Touched as I am by your defence, Mom –"

"Oh, be quiet, Lorelai," Emily interrupted her and sighed. "He is right in _some_ aspects, you know!"

She was almost glad that they were back on track. This was what she had been prepared for. "The part about Luke owning just a diner and not the old Mr Hayden's trust funds?"

Her mother merely laughed, a derisive, little snigger. "Christopher's trust funds, oh my. You don't need those, do you. You've made that clear enough. No, the point I agree with in your father's little tirade is the one about taking things seriously. Marriages – or engagements, come to that."

Lorelai opened her mouth for an answer, but couldn't come up with any. "Er –"

"Agreeing to marry someone is almost as serious as actually _getting_ to marry someone, Lorelai. I can't deny that it was my wish that you and Christopher would marry after all. We're both sorely aware of this, aren't we? What I overlooked in this idea was that you had already engaged yourself to somebody else. Although you will excuse me for not paying proper attention – you have a tendency to take these things so lightly that one is easily mislead."

"What?!"

"Well, the number of your engagements and almost-weddings and actual weddings is a little excessive, don't you agree? Not as bad as Elizabeth Taylor, admittedly – but then, you're not half as old as she."

"Excuse me?!"

Emily gave her a long, earnest look. "Don't you mess it up again, Lorelai. Not this time. You're not getting younger, and if you want to have another child, you need to hurry up."

Faintly, Lorelai thought that her mother was _brilliant_ with her technique; she always managed to attack from an angle that her opponent could impossibly have anticipated. 'Kill someone with friendliness,' wasn't this what they say?

"Another child?" she repeated, dumbfounded.

"You do want another child, don't you?"

She had a recollection of a conversation with Christopher on precisely this, including her own reluctance, and at the same time she was aware that, yes, she _had_ had some plans of perhaps having another baby – with the right guy, at the right time… Was her mother suggesting that _she_ thought Luke could be that right man? Or was she merely keen on another grandchild?

"I… Mom, we – we haven't… We only got back together a few days ago!"

"That's what I imagine, yes, but it doesn't follow that you shouldn't keep your future in mind, does it?"

"That's what you imagine?!"

"I found it fairly obvious, not only at the party he threw for Rory –"

"How do you know about _that_!"

Emily smirked. "Sookie mentioned it in passing when she called to invite us. But that aside – are you telling me that you've never asked yourself why things came the way they did? How you were engaged to your Luke for such a long time, only to break up in the spur of the moment and run to Christopher because you knew he'd always take you back with open arms?"

"Uh –"

"I'm not sure why you are so scared of full commitment, Lorelai. You didn't want to belong to us any longer – fine, but that's more than twenty years ago. Why is it so hard for you to belong to somebody else?"

With a lump in her throat, she replied flatly, "That is why Luke and I broke up, Mom! _I_ wanted to belong to him! _I_ wanted full commitment! _He_ just wasn't ready for it."

"I can only hope that he is ready now, Lorelai. Don't you scare off this one, too. He's your best chance for being happy, as far as I can see."

Suddenly on the verge of tears, Lorelai managed to gnarl, "Because my biological clock is ticking or what?!"

Her mother chuckled under her breath and for a moment, her expression was very tender. "I don't know about that. You're not forty yet. What I do know, however, is that I've never seen you happier than with this man – or unhappier, when you were without him. If you are uncertain whether he is _ready_, as you call it –" She emphasised that word with hooked fingers. "_I_ could talk to him if you wish. I think he is frightened enough of me to listen."

She tried suppressing a laugh, and at the same time a tear quelled from her eye. "Thanks for the offer, Mom," she whispered, "but I do think I need to straighten things out myself."

"Very well." Emily nodded and carefully put away her napkin to get up, too. "I think I should look after your father now."

"No, Mom. Let – let me do that. I – well, this is a very posh place; I wouldn't want to start crying in front of all your acquaintances. And if Dad sees me like this, he'll assume you had dressed me down properly, and he'll be all right with you again."

Despite her most careful attempts to rearrange her makeup, she must look troubled still when entering the diner that evening. It was closed already and Luke was wiping the tables and putting up the chairs. He shot her a very worried look when she came in, and asked, "So bad, eh?"

She shrugged and gave a laugh. "Bad? I don't know. If 'bad' means that my dad nearly managed to be blacklisted in one of Hartford's fanciest restaurants – then the evening might be called bad indeed."

"Oh, so you were up against both of them," he muttered, coming over to her and taking her in his arms.

"Curiously enough, I wasn't! I think that's what's shaking me so! My father went on and on about the sanctity of marriage while I tried telling him that this is total rubbish if no priest's involved, and my _mother_ –" She shook her head in disbelief. "She rushed to my defence, can you imagine that! _My_ defence! Tah! They must have changed her medication or something! Well, not entirely, of course – she did say she liked this dress."

"Emily Gilmore defended you? Sounds unsettling."

"Want to hear something even more disturbing? She defended _you_, too."

He creased his forehead. "Why would she do _that_?"

"She said that she had never seen me happier than with you."

"What?"

"My reply _exactly_!" She fondled his hair in the small of his neck. "I hate saying it, but for once I have to agree with my own mother. Of course, that's her secret plan. She _knows_ that I always go for the opposite of what _she_ says."

He backed away so far that he could see her face. "And? Will you?"

"No." She vigorously shook her head without breaking eye-contact. "No, I won't. Even if that means that I'll do what my mother wants me to."

They kissed, and then she helped him closing down the shop before going upstairs. "You want to hear what else my mother said?"

"I'm not sure I can handle more blows like the last one."

She grinned. "She said you and I were peas in a pot. We both have spurious daughters that are terribly bright and sweet and talented, we both married spontaneously and got divorced before the flower bouquets had fully faded… Let's face it, Luke – you and I were made for each other."

"Your mother is scary."

"Funny! _She_ said that, too! Seriously! She said that she thinks you were frightened of her! As a matter of fact, she offered to do the whole Lady de Burgh thing, just the other way round –"

"The lady what?!"

He opened the door to the flat and ushered her in, and she explained, "Oh, never mind. There's a show I can never make you watch, I'm afraid… The bottom line is that she's willing to have a word with you –"

"With _me_? Why?"

Too late, Lorelai realised that she was treading on thin ice here. She didn't want to put pressure on him. This was all so fresh still – she had deserted him, had hurt him beyond expression, had run off to marry the man he was more jealous of than anyone else in the world… How could she tell him that she feared _he_ might not be fully committed to her?

"Oh, you know…" She made a dismissive gesture and put up her most playful face. "Frightening you into treating her daughter like the spoilt little princess that she is and all that."

"What did your father say about this bit?"

"Nothing. At that point he had already barricaded himself in the bathroom."

"And what made you cry, then?"

She was squirming on the inside. She still didn't want to tell him about the commitment thing – on the other hand she didn't want him to get the (false!) impression that her father's disapproval of him could have dismayed her so much. Why _had_ she cried, anyway? She wasn't the type to cry easily.

She shrugged helplessly. "There was something my mother said – about me being incapable of belonging to someone and – and –" She took a deep breath. "It's not true, Luke! I'm not incapable of belonging! I do want to – to… Look, I know I have no right to ask you for anything, but if you – if you –"

She bit her lip, and he asked softly, "If I…?"

"If you want me, I want to belong to _you_. I really, _really_ want to! She said I'd mess it up again because that's just me, but I want you to know that that's not true, and that I'm ready to do anything to make this work, and that includes that I'll shut up now and give you the time you need – I've learnt from my mistakes, you see?"

"I don't need no more time, Lorelai." His expression was so serious that her heart missed some beats. She was deadly frightened of what he would say next. "I know that I want us to belong together, and if you are sure you want the same –"

"I am sure!"

"Well, I guess that means that we do belong together, then."

What was wrong with her today? Because when they kissed now, she was all teary-eyed again and the impact of her sudden, fierce embrace almost knocked them both over.

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to Pink Floyd's '_Mother_' from the album 'The Wall'.


	5. Fish And Tips

* * *

**Fish And Tips**

* * *

Richard kept his icy silence not only in the car on the way home; he went straight to bed without uttering another word and continued to sulk all through the next morning, too. Emily felt uneasy about this, but thought she could handle her husband's anger much better than Lorelai's these days. Because that was the crucial point about all this. Rory was gone. Her grandparents had no more levers to coerce Lorelai into seeing them, and if there was one thing Emily was truly sure of, it was this: she wouldn't endure losing their daughter once more.

If that meant putting up with this man, the diner owner – oh well. _Of course_ Emily would have preferred to see her only child at the side of a better man. A Yale absolvent with a thriving law firm, perhaps. Or a successful doctor. If she could have made her pick the way _she_ wanted, she'd have, naturally, chosen Christopher for her daughter, even though he had no College degree either. But even when she had heard that her dearest wish in this respect had finally come true, when he and Lorelai had returned from France – even then Emily had felt the nagging doubts already, which had only gotten stronger the longer she had witnessed the course of events among these two.

Christopher, her mother's choice, was clearly _not_ Lorelai's. A newly-wed couple with a future together simply wasn't like this; Emily had an eye for such things, even if she chose to ignore her intuition mostly. She had seen her daughter with that Luke character, too, and long before they had actually started going out, and even after their separation, it had been plain obvious that this man was what Lorelai truly wanted. Did Emily think her child was throwing herself away? Of course she did. But she had not lied when she had said to Richard that she wanted to see their girl happy, and if she could only be happy with this fellow – so be it.

If they wanted to keep Lorelai in their life, they would have to accept her choice, so much was certain, and just as certainly, Richard's attitude was no help. For a long time, he had minded the diner owner much less than his wife had – but Lorelai's marriage had changed everything in his eyes. Divorces were for other people. His idea about it was a little like the Catholic Church's – one could choose to simply ignore the facts and totally disregard the divorce altogether, pretending the couple in question was just living in two different houses – but a second marriage was out of the question and the true offence. And Richard, far less apt in analysing other people's love lives than his wife, could tell so much for himself, too – their daughter _was_ very serious with this lowly diner guy, much more serious than she had been about her _husband_, who was after all Rory's father and in so far, the only truly acceptable husband in her father's opinion anyhow.

But Richard wasn't as shrewd and foresighted as his wife. In their own marriage, they had distributed the duties, and it had always been Emily's job to take care of their social circle, to understand and handle human relationships in general, and whisper in the right moment in her husband's ear, 'Do not mention his wife; she ran away with her tennis coach last month' and other things of this sort. It wasn't his area of expertise to grasp these things, or make plans how to coax their daughter into a useful relationship with her parents after they could no longer blackmail her. He didn't even grasp that they might lose her again, and in his anger, he would have proclaimed that he didn't care, either!

Oh, but he'd calm down again, Emily was sure. That evening at dinner, she reassessed her opinion and settled for 'time will sort it all out'. Richard wrinkled his nose at the food on the dish before him and flat-out refused eating the salmon steak.

"You expect me growing webs between my toes and fingers, Emily?"

"The doctors expressly ordered –"

"Perhaps you should invite _them_ for dinner then, and force them to eat this!"

"Don't make such a fuss, Richard! You've never minded salmon until now!"

"Well, now I do mind it. _If_ you are so bent on feeding me, I want the food that Lorelai's friend prepared for me."

Emily shook her head in exasperation. "But Sookie isn't available! In case you've forgotten – she's already got a job; she's the chef in our daughter's hotel! Oscar was recommended by _her_, you know!"

"I want Sookie's, or a decent steak, and that's all I have to say on the subject!"

She groaned and drank a whole glass of wine. Oh, but she knew what he _really_ wanted, and it had nothing to do with his diet. He _wanted_ Lorelai taking back her divorce, he wanted her to get back with her husband, and rule out 'that diner guy' from her life altogether. Maybe Richard, being in his sixties, was a little old to understand at last that one couldn't always have what one wanted. But he'd have to accept this simple little truth, because surely, Lorelai wouldn't give up what _she_ wanted, and a modest scrap of common sense told Emily that it was unreasonable to expect their daughter giving in on this point. It _was_ her life, her marriage, her choice. The only option that her parents had was to choose whether they wished to play a part in all this. Emily knew her answer, and could only hope that her husband would see the light, too.

"Richard," she began with strained calmness. "I wish us to talk about this in a sensible manner –"

"I don't know how sensible a conversation about fish can be, frankly!"

"You know as well as I do that this isn't about a piece of salmon. Lorelai –"

He snorted. "I don't want to hear this, Emily!"

"But I'll say it anyway. You _have_ to accept her decision, Richard. We both have to accept it. She wants this man and she'll have it her way, and there is nothing you or I have got to say on the matter."

"They have nothing in common!"

"It's very well you think that, Richard, but apparently, Lorelai doesn't mind!"

"She's throwing herself away, Emily, _and_ –"

"But that doesn't _matter_! You should know our daughter well enough to grasp that she isn't going to change her mind because of what _we_ say. She loves this man, not Christopher –"

"Newfangled mores! In our time, people would _work_ on their problems!"

She merely shrugged. "If you ask me, she should have worked on her problems with her Luke, then, instead of running off with Christopher."

"But she did, and now she's married to him! Neither you nor I forced her to marry him!"

"So what? We can't force her to stay with him either. And to be quite candid with you, I have no intentions forcing her even if I could. She wasn't happy with Christopher."

"Happy! Conjugal life isn't only about being _happy_!"

"True," she snarled with a miffed expression, and added quietly, "Nonetheless you want to think about it. You know how stubborn your daughter is, Richard! You _know_ that it'd cost her a smirk and a shrug to not speak with us again in the next ten years, if that's enough! Do you want to lose her again?"

"I don't want to lose her, but it doesn't follow that I give her my blessing for every bit of nonsense she's taking into her head!"

"Richard, think about it, I pray you! Every time when we tried to interfere, she gave us the cold shoulder, or ran away. We pressed her to marry Christopher, then – and she ran off to live in a barn, rather than with us! We disapproved of her Luke – she didn't talk to me for _months_. And she was _scared_ to tell us she and Christopher had separated!"

"And your point is?"

"If we scare her away this time, she won't come back! She only comes to us if she likes, and I'm willing to go a long way to keep her coming. I want to be there when my next grandchild grows up."

"_What?!_ You mean she's pregnant?! From _that_ man?!"

"Oh, nonsense, Richard! How should she have gotten pregnant in so little time!"

"Well, what do I know! Perhaps she betrayed Christopher with this guy already and –"

"Richard!" she cried and glared at him. "Don't be so crude!"

"_You_ brought this up, Emily! What makes you think she's having another child, I wonder!"

She smirked softly and shook her head. "I just know it. A mother can _feel_ such a thing." He cast her a sceptic look, but she went on, "She's not too old yet, and now that Rory has gone away, she'll want another child, mark my words. She's also got the right partner –"

He snorted. "The right partner! If only!"

"Well, she surely thinks so – she isn't going to ask for _our_ opinion, or approval! She has been together with him for – well, two years, right? They've even been engaged already, so they must have been pretty serious –"

He cut her short once more, "Not serious enough not to break the whole thing off, and marry somebody else!"

"Well, you know your daughter. If she doesn't get her way… But the point is moot. She wants this man, he adores her, and frankly, it could be worse."

"Could it?" he taunted and sneered.

"She could have found herself someone who's just after our money, someone who doesn't accept Rory, some notorious philanderer, or hopeless dreamer, or –"

He laughed, unwilling, but still. "Emily, when did _you_ start being a person who prefers seeing the bright side?"

She smiled slyly. "You want to adopt my way of seeing this whole thing, Richard. We've missed to see Rory's entire childhood. I'm not going to let that happen again."

"You are right, you know? We cannot force her to do what we want. But _you_ cannot force _me_ either to close my eyes and pretend I was all right with her latest follies!"


	6. Full Sail Steady As You Go

* * *

**Full Sail Steady As You Go**

* * *

"Where does this go?"

"Leave it. I'll do it in a minute."

"But I want to help! And I want to learn all these cool knots an' all, so I can tie you to the mast and tickle you and feed you with fries and Oreos –" He came over and took the rope out of her hand. "Oh, this is giving you ideas, Mister, isn't it? Is this going to be very kinky?"

He fastened the rope with a few handy moves. "There you go. It'd take me five times as long explaining it to you than just doing it myself."

"What do we do now?"

"Nothing, for the time being. We're set."

She grinned suggestively. "Oh yes? So we can do what we like?"

He chuckled. "Yeah. What do you want to do, then?"

Her grin broadened yet, and she ushered him to lie down so she could rub in the sun screen and give him a massage. When she was finished, she lay down next to him, enjoying the warm sun on her skin and being close to him like this, with no care in the world. "This is fantastic, Luke."

"Not as thrilling as your roller coasters though."

She grinned, fondly recalling the past few days, which they had spent travelling from fair to fair. She could tell that he hadn't even been pretending to be having fun – although it clearly wasn't his thing. Truth to tell, it wasn't her 'thing' either, but fun all the same. It had been fun because they had done it together.

"I've had enough of that. Now all I want is being here and relax, and… Well, just relish that we're here together, just you and me."

"I relish that, too."

"Yeah?" She snuggled up to him. "And you're not afraid of being alone with that crazy woman on this small boat? I could drive you mad, too."

He laughed and gathered her in his arms. "The only thing driving me mad is being without you, Lorelai, as you well know."

"I like hearing it repeated though."

"Is this true insecurity, or just an excessive amount of vanity?"

"Both," she replied, quite truthfully, and was gratified with the following kisses and professions of love and tenderness. She could not say how it had come to this. They had done it all wrong, then. He had kept her out of his life with this whole April story; she had not been patient enough, hadn't had enough faith in them, had deserted him, married someone else and crashed that marriage in record time… How they had managed to mend the damages and end up here, like this, united as if they had never been apart on the one hand, and on the other more deeply in love than ever… No, she didn't fully understand it, but it didn't matter either.

The next days passed as the first one – peacefully, filled with glorious sunshine, the smell of the sea, exquisite food and devoted love making. It was _so_ perfect, it seemed almost surreal. On their last evening, they sat on the deck together and watched the sundown, sipping a glass of wine, and even though she was slightly apprehensive, she just had to ask him nevertheless –

"So what will be once we're back in Stars Hollow?"

"What do you mean?"

She faltered, finding it hard to say and pressing his hand in great animation. "Look… We've gotten along wonderfully, don't you think? And I thought… I thought… I would like to keep it like this."

"Keep it like this? I'm not sure I…"

"Being together constantly. And before you say anything – I _know_ this appears a bit rash, and I don't expect you to give me an answer here and now; I'd just like you to think about it."

"You mean living together again?"

"Yes." He squeezed her hands back just as tightly; she was so relieved.

"I… I did think about this, too, yes. It's just…"

"Just?" she echoed with a lump in her throat.

"Look, Lorelai – I know how fond you are of your house, and would never contemplate living elsewhere. But I – I don't think I could live there again."

"But why?!"

"Because… I couldn't feel comfortable there."

"You used to feel very comfortable there."

"Exactly. Many, many memories are linked with that house. Most of them wonderful, but _some_… Some that I would rather forget. And you lived there with – with your husband, Lorelai. I can't handle that."

He hadn't let go of her hands and kept on pressing them, which prove to her that he wasn't mad at her – that must count for something. Trying hard to control her voice, she murmured, "But he left that house because of you. He left because he didn't endure being second to you. And the same's true for the house, isn't it, you lived there first! You practically _built_ half of it during the renovations. It's yours as much as mine that way!"

"Listen, you said you want me to think about this, right? We're back together for less than a _month_ –"

"We've got our four weeks anniversary next Friday," she inserted affectionately.

He pecked a kiss on her cheek. "And we should celebrate that hugely. But – come on, you do know that neither of us performs very well in a rush. Let's do this once at a time. I'm sure I will accustom to the house again, after collecting some new memories to replace the bad ones."

"Okay," she whispered, feeling rather shaken. Yes, she had said that she didn't want to rush him, and she _didn't_ want that, but the reminder of how badly she had hurt him dismayed her. This wasn't fair! Oh, how much had she wanted _him_ to be that husband living with her! It had been _he_ who had kept on stalling! But at the same time she knew that it was _her_ being unfair there. He had waited patiently, always. He had waited for her for eight years. He had respected that she couldn't marry him when things had been going all wrong with Rory. After her meltdown in that one night which had ended in Christopher's bed – he had come to her directly in the next morning, giving in to her, wanting to elope to Maryland with her and get married straightaway… _She_ had messed it up.

He interrupted her musing by softly muttering, "I love you, Lorelai. I want to get it right this time. And if you're so upset because of this now – if that's the case, I'll get my stuff from the flat first thing after we're back in Stars Hollow, and move back in with you."

She knew that he meant it. This was Luke Danes. The man who had always made anything possible that she wanted. She knew he'd do anything for her, regardless of his own wishes or preferences. He'd even move into the house and face the ghosts of Christopher and all his own disappointed hopes in there, if she demanded it from him now. This realisation alleviated the sudden onslaught of gloom she had felt a minute ago, and with a smile she turned her face to him.

"No," she said and fully meant it. "It's fine. You are right. I didn't think about it from that angle. Let's do this slowly. And for a start, I quite fancy spending some time with you in your bachelor spot above the diner. It's heaven for a fast food junkie such as myself, with my own private cook to spoil me."

"You're serious?"

She smiled even brighter. "I am. I just want to be with you, I don't care where. Which is not to say that I wouldn't _love_ spending another week here. I must admit I never quite grasped why you'd keep a boat – if I had known how great this is, I'd have dragged you here years ago!"

"Hell, if_ I_ had had an inkling how nice this can be! I kept that old boat only for sentimentality – not to actually _use_ it."

"Don't get me wrong, but – I'm grateful that April couldn't make it. I mean – this came out wrong –"

"Don't worry, I get what you mean." And then they kissed.

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to the Beach Boys' song '_Full Sail_' from the album L.A.


	7. Only By Letting Go Can We Possess

* * *

**Only By Letting Go C****an We Truly Possess What Is Real**

* * *

She had mulled over the idea since the last evening of their holidays, and had realised several things. Firstly: Luke had every right to _not_ want to live in her house again. Secondly: as heavenly as it was to stay in the flat over Luke's diner, two adults couldn't live there on the long run. As a matter of fact, Lorelai wondered how Luke had ever managed to live there for so long. Thirdly (and this one was a little disturbing because it came back to something her mother had said): her own house wouldn't be big enough if they had kids, and Lorelai knew that deep down, she had always wanted another kid, with Luke, and if they could have two, all the better… Yes, it had been all right for her and Rory – but there had been only two of them. A couple and one, two children – they'd be sardines in a tin.

So there was only one way – find another place. And this was the crux. On the one hand, she perfectly recollected Luke's horror of searching for a flat for himself and Jess back then. She didn't want to put him through this, all the more because _she_ was even more difficult than him in her demands. On the other hand she didn't want to make a decision without him. But there was an ideal house – one of which she knew that he'd love it – and which very much appealed to her, too. This was Twickham House. Luke had bought it once – and sold it again, understanding that Lorelai didn't want to give up her own place. She didn't know who was the new owner, but at least it was still uninhabited, which she was inclined to take as a good sign that it was still available somehow.

She went to the town hall and checked who was the new owner, finding it belonged to a Miss Glenda Jeffreys, who was represented by some Brooklyn-based law firm. Her next way led exactly there, and she stopped in front of a handsome townhouse, with a large brass tag with the engraved names 'Warner, McLintock, Leahy & Phillips' on it. She checked her reflection in the window next to the door and walked in.

A friendly receptionist asked her to wait after she had stated her case, and she settled in the comfortable waiting section, leafing through some glossy magazine. Then the receptionist returned and led her into a nice office 'to see Miss Leahy' and only when stepping in, Lorelai realised whom she was facing there, and got sudden qualms.

An attractive woman sat behind the huge desk, smiling the sort of smile that didn't reach the eyes, and got up now to welcome her. "Lorelai," Nicole Leahy – Luke's _first wife!_ – said casually, giving her voice just the right sort of spin; all friendliness on the outside, but with a clearly perceptible edge.

"Nicole?"

"Oh, so you two know each other?" the receptionist chirped and they both nodded.

"Small world, isn't it," Nicole muttered, looking less and less enthusiastic – and she hadn't looked that welcoming to begin with. It was clear that she was as reluctant as Lorelai suddenly felt about her; she formally asked Lorelai to sit down, and the latter took a look around, taking in the neat, tidy office. It looked just like Nicole herself. What had Luke ever seen in this woman?

"So – erm – how are you?"

Coolly, Nicole replied, "I'm fine, thank you. And you?"

"Excellent, thanks."

"And how is Luke?"

There was a certain tinge to her voice when asking this, and Lorelai replied with ostentatious casualness, "He's very well, too."

Nicole's glance lingered on Lorelai's hands, and with unveiled glee, she went on, "I take it he's still unmarried, then."

"You mean he wouldn't be well if he was married?"

"Depends on his wife, I daresay," Nicole retorted surly.

"Certainly," Lorelai said in the same vein. "With the wrong spouse, one can be utterly miserable."

The lawyer took it _exactly_ as Lorelai had intended. This woman had a nerve! _She_ had cheated on Luke! He had spent half an evening in _jail_ because of this person! All right, this wasn't sheer altruism and solicitousness for Luke's feelings of old – she, herself, had been _quite_ jealous of Nicole, admittedly, and the residue of that long-grown dislike returned as she looked at the woman over there.

"Whom are you telling this, Lorelai," she said coldly. "I could write books on that topic."

"Excuse me – I might be mistaken, but wasn't it _you_ who cheated on her husband…?"

"I was merely retaliating," Nicole shot back at once.

"Luke has never betrayed you! He hasn't got a dishonest bone in his body!"

"He was already betraying me when he asked me to marry him. _You_ might choose acting the naïve, but I'm not. Even in our wedding night, he wasn't really sleeping with _me_."

Lorelai wondered whether the other woman had a clue what an enormous triumph she had just granted her, and suppressed a smile. "However this may be – I have come to you in your position as the representative of Miss Glenda Jeffreys, owner of Twickham House in Stars Hollow."

Nicole strained to put on a businesslike expression, too. "I'd have to consult our files for a start. Excuse me." She picked up the phone and bellowed at the friendly receptionist to bring the papers in question, before asking Lorelai to state her case.

"I would like to get in contact with Miss Jeffreys in order to find out whether Twickham House is available for sale – or rent. It's currently uninhabited, so…"

"Twickham House – isn't that the grand old house at Chesney and Main Street?"

"That's the one."

"Rather big a house for two people."

"Yes, well. It's pretty. They no longer build them like that."

"So your daughter is still living with you?"

"Rory just got her first job," Lorelai answered evasively, reluctant to discuss her purpose with Luke's ex-wife of all people.

"While we are waiting, you could already fill out this form –" She pushed a paper over to her 'client'. "So we can forward your application to Miss Jeffreys."

"My application? Not so fast, please. I would like to talk to the owner first, see what price she'd have in mind and all these things." Like asking _Luke_ what he even thought of this! She had wanted to surprise him, but the way things were going, she favoured the idea less and less.

"You don't seem to understand, Lorelai. Our clients usually commission _us_ to handle these matters for them. That's what we're paid for, you see. It's more than unlikely that you'll _talk_ to Miss Jeffreys. You'll have to talk to _me_."

She smiled like a shark, and Lorelai returned it wryly. "So what _are_ the terms, then?"

The receptionist came in with a green folder, asked Lorelai whether she would like a cup of coffee – an offer that was accepted at once and with pleasure. Nicole took her time and leafed through the file; she no longer bothered for anything like civility, and ignored Lorelai, who drank her coffee in silence.

"The house is available indeed," the lawyer said at last.

"And the terms?"

"The terms are above your station, I daresay."

Lorelai stifled a vexed gasp. "Above my _station_?! Care to explain that one to me?"

"Oh, well. I remember that you were about to open your own Inn, the last time I heard from you. Which means that you're either up to your neck in mortgages, _or_ ran bankrupt with the enterprise – and would be consequently even less well off. In either case, you could not afford Twickham House."

Lorelai pursed her lips. "Mmh, but seeing how much you know of me, you could also remember that my parents are _quite_ well off. Who says they're not helping me with the purchase?"

"Oh, are they?" Nicole didn't cease smiling that false smile. "I seem to recall a slight rupture between you and your parents, but I might be mistaken."

"I believe my private dealings are none of your business, _unless_ I chose to buy Twickham House, and that decision really depends on the _terms_. Or are you bent on refusing to do business with me for personal reasons? Because if that is the case, I would like to talk to one of your colleagues about this."

Nicole ignored the insinuation and went on, "You really want it, don't you? The house?"

She shrugged. "I don't know yet," she gnarled. "I'd have to know the terms first."

"I remember Twickham House, you know? Very handsome place. We walked past the house several times, and I do recall in perfect clarity that Luke always seemed to have a soft spot for it."

Lorelai told herself to remain calm, and in her most innocent voice, she said, "Oh, really?"

"Yes, _really_. He never spoke much about it, but I could tell. That's just the thing with him, don't you agree? He doesn't talk all that much, but between the lines of what he says, you can _tell_ his fancies. Of course, _you_ appear to prefer ignoring the obvious."

"What makes you think that, I wonder?"

Nicole cast Lorelai's hands another long look. "Would it really be such a big surprise to you if I told you that Luke didn't only fancy Twickham House?"

"Oh, please, Nicole – we're past Junior High. Let's talk business here. You want to talk about Luke, yes? You want to tell me he fancied me? Let me put your mind to rest – I know he did, then, and to satisfy your curiosity some more: he still does." She wriggled her hands, clearly displaying the lack of any rings there. "And no, we're not married."

She gave her a challenging look, which the lawyer returned just as boldly. "I see," she said simply, and slightly triumphantly.

The tension between the two women didn't lessen though, and not much later, Lorelai left the law firm without any further results. She was fuming on the inside, vexed by Nicole's brazenness, but also surfing on a wave of deepest satisfaction that she didn't bother to suppress. Luke loved _her_. Luke had loved _her_ even when he had been married to that awful person. And perhaps Nicole had the power to keep Twickham House from her, but they both knew what this had truly been about, and in _that_ regard, Nicole had no power whatsoever; she hadn't had that power then, and she most certainly didn't have it now!

Lorelai supposed that her problem with Nicole was a piece of cake compared with Luke's difficulties with Christopher, and when she entered the diner that evening, she went straight behind the counter, whirled her arms around his neck and kissed him very passionately. The man was a saint. He and Chris had come to blows? Lorelai had spent the entire way between Brooklyn and Stars Hollow contemplating how she could poison Nicole without being caught.

He kissed her back, not even minding that everyone could see them, and when they finally disentangled, he sniggered and asked, "What was that for?"

"I love you. You have no idea how much I love you."

"Right back at you." He pecked another kiss on her lips. "If you like, there's a cherry pie with your name on it in the kitchen."

"I lo-ooo-ove you!" She went into the kitchen and indeed – there _was_ a cherry pie, and it _had_ her name on it, laid with cherries. "LOVE YOU!" she cried over.

"Just eat it and shut up! You're frightening the other customers," came the instant reply.

"You said there was no more cherry pie!" Kirk's indignant voice could be heard.

"There isn't."

"Why's _she_ getting cherry pie, then?!"

"She's looking better in a miniskirt than you."

"Thanks!" Lorelai shouted between two bites.

"How do you know how I would look in a miniskirt?!"

"I've seen you _naked_, Kirk."

"Me, too," Lorelai chimed in. "And I look better naked as well!"

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to '_Wo Hu Cang Long_' (Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon) from 2000.


	8. It's Not Too Late Too Try

* * *

**It's Not Too Late To Try**

* * *

Additional to the fact that Lorelai was a great fan of the internet due to the fact that it enabled her to stay in contact with Rory, she came to see other benefits in the concept when searching for Glenda Jeffreys. After a thorough search, she had a list with four ladies of that name and their telephone numbers, and called one after the other. She was lucky with number three – the Brooklyn Glenda Jeffreys, who sounded like a sweet, elderly lady and was pretty astonished with the caller's request.

"My dear child," she said, "why don't you contact the law firm in charge of my affairs –"

"I did that already, Ma'am," Lorelai answered, and explained why she'd rather speak to the owner herself, omitting a few details there. The old lady was delighted with the story nonetheless, named her price, stated over and over how pleased she would be to have a young couple taking the house to raise their children there, and that was that. Lorelai was very satisfied with herself, and even more satisfied with the terms that old Miss Jeffreys had offered.

Of course, she didn't have hundred ninety thousand dollars. And damned Nicole Leahy was right in so far that no bank would give her the money either, as long as she hadn't paid back the paramount of the mortgages for the Dragonfly Inn. But she knew somebody who had so much money – and who would be pleased as punch to regain some influence with the help of financial input. She called her mother and they appointed to meet for lunch in Hartford.

"And Mom," Lorelai said at last. "Can we meet in private? Just you and me?"

Emily was clearly curious, and as soon as they had covered the usual news of Rory – two postcards, two e-mails and some phone calls since they had last spoken together – she asked immediately, "What is it? Are you getting engaged?"

"What? No! Can one even get engaged before the divorce is through?"

"Who do you ask that? I married the only man I ever was engaged to!"

"But you're the expert on general etiquette. Don't these things happen every once in a while in your country club?"

Emily made a dismissive gesture. "So what _is_ it? I don't expect you merely want to see me, without your father present."

Lorelai took a deep breath and started explaining, content with her mother's smirks. She knew her mom. She could have drawn maps on Emily's smirks – and the one on her face over there was a good one. "I understand that, of course, you'll have to talk this through with Dad. But I wanted to speak to you for a start," she finished with her most conspiratorial smile.

"So you do want children," Emily said triumphantly.

"Yes, Mom, I do. You were right. Well, at least I consider it as an option."

Emily was positively beaming. "I'd like to see the house before I can make any decisions."

"Naturally. I expected nothing else, and the friendly lady owning the place has given me permission to show you around whenever it's convenient for you. She sent me a set of keys."

"You can't expect me to invest money in some ramshackle place."

"I don't. If it's in no good condition, I'm not sure I'd even want it, though Luke would probably want to repair whatever's necessary. He took care of all the renovations of my house, too; you know he is good with these things."

"And you haven't told him anything yet?"

Lorelai recognised a trump when she saw it. "No, Mom. I haven't even told Rory so far. _You_ are the first to hear this."

Emily obviously tried suppressing a smile. "Not even Sookie?"

"Not even Sookie, Mom. She's not good with keeping secrets, you know that."

It was ridiculously easy to butter Emily Gilmore up, honestly. Being her, she of course tried negotiating better conditions, but on the main point Lorelai remained firm – she would _not_ have her mother arrange any possible weddings. "Besides – he didn't ask me and –"

"Don't be silly, Lorelai. He'll ask you at the soonest possible occasion. For heaven's sake, can't you see how he's _looking_ at you?"

"What do you know how he's looking at me, you haven't seen him since we're together again!"

"But I've seen him for years and years and years! You might recall that _I_ always sensed what was going on between you two, long before _you_ would even acknowledge it."

Emily put on her smuggest smirk yet, but Lorelai, as much as she wanted to lull her mother in, wouldn't have it. "If you were always so clairvoyant, Mom – why did you set heaven and hell in motion to bring us apart, then?"

The smirk turned into a pout. "Is it so terrible that a mother wants to see her daughter marry a man of means? With a decent career –"

"Luke is the most decent man I ever met, Mom!"

"I'm not saying he wasn't! I merely meant to explain to you why I wasn't particularly impressed, then."

"And now, Mom?"

Emily shrugged ever so slightly. "He is reliable, and you love him. I can live with his coarse manners and the fact that he owns nothing but a little diner, if you can."

Lorelai exhaled and put her tongue in her cheek. This was as good as it could get with Emily Gilmore. Even if her daughter had fallen in love with a successful pawn broker, sole heir to a gigantic trust fund that looked like Cary Grant, Emily would still have managed to find a fault with him. "I love him, Mom, I find his manners wonderful, and it would mean a lot to me if you – and Dad, in time perhaps – respect him, too."

"I know how that is, Lorelai," her mother said, suddenly thoughtful. "I do know exactly how it feels _not_ being welcome to the family of the person you love. I realised that I don't want to be the Trix Gilmore for _your_ man. He makes you happy, that's all I need to see."

"Thank you, Mom," Lorelai murmured with some movement.

"So when are you going to tell him?"

"Once I have organised everything so far that he only needs to say yes or no."

This was sooner the case than Lorelai had dared hoping. Her mother, her habitual niggling aside, found Twickham House as nice as expected, and promised the loan even if Richard should refuse. In fact, she regarded 'a house like this' as an 'excellent investment', and Lorelai told Luke to close the diner early the following day, "Because I have a surprise for you."

She waited for him with a bottle of champagne that night, and he shot her an intrigued glance when spotting it. "Should I start getting nervous?"

She patted the seat next to her on the sofa and as soon as he had settled, she pushed a glass into his hand. "Luke," she began, "I must tell you a few things. For a start – this flat is getting on my nerves. Even when it's your free evening, the guys keep on coming up bothering you, and also – if I continually live so close to such a kitchen, I'll put on so much weight that I soon cannot climb the stairs up here."

"I told you, Lorelai – if you want me to move in with you in your house –"

"Shoo! I have not finished yet. _My_ house is undoubtedly bigger than this flat, but I cannot help the feeling that it is too small for two adults plus their entire emotional baggage. So I had the idea that we could move somewhere else altogether – always assuming you _want_ to, which, of course, is merely an option, not a must –"

"_Of_ _course_ I want to! I merely don't want you to give up your house that means so much to you!"

"Yes, I _am_ very fond of the house, but I – I can make compromises, Luke. If your only reason _not_ to move in with me is that you don't want to live in that house – then we'll just take another one."

"You don't mean that, Lorelai. Really, sleep over it."

"I do mean it! I want to be with you, Luke, for real and the full monty, and I won't let a stupid house come in the way. I love that place, I've had wonderful times there with Rory, and you, but – but I do want to open a new page. With you. Wherever we can _both_ feel comfortable. I don't want to live in the past, Luke. I want a future, and I want this future with you, and I want you to be as happy as you make me. It's only a house, after all. Now I do remember that you did have an object in mind once –"

"Twickham House, you mean? Forget it, it's sold – but that doesn't matter, really, I –"

"Not so quickly, my friend! Twickham House has been sold indeed – to a very charming lady, incidentally." She saw his brows rise and couldn't help it but grin. "That lady would be willing to sell the place again; for her it's a mere investment. _If_ you were still keen on the house, she would either sell or rent to us, because, unnecessary to mention it, really, she finds me as pleasant as I found her. There is no bank in all New England that would lend me so much money at present, but believe it or not, my mother would help me out, so _if_ you would like to, we could purchase the house together."

His jaw had dropped and he stared at her. "What?"

"In a nutshell – would you want to live with me in Twickham House?"

"You – you're serious?"

"Boy, you don't know how much. I sucked up to a whole lot of people for this, and incredible as it might sound – my mother wasn't the worst among them. You would not _believe_ who's the official manager for the old Miss Jeffreys."

"Kirk?"

She snorted. "If only! Miss Jeffreys is represented by a Brooklyn law firm, and _guess who_ I bumped into there!"

Realisation dawned on his face. "No –"

"Yes. And to flatter your vanity a little – we were both _so_ close to scratching each other's eyes out."

He gave an awkward little laugh. "Were you? But why?"

"Very funny, Mister, very funny. Doesn't need an Einstein to figure out why I am a little jealous of your first wife, and _she_ clearly has some issues with me as well. In fact, she was the one sparking off the hostilities."

"But _she_ –" He bit his lip and she gave him a swift kiss.

"That's what I said, too! But she claimed that you had been mentally unfaithful." She stretched proudly. "Is that true, then?"

He smirked wryly. "You know it's true, in a way."

"Aww! You were pining for me, you were, you were, you were! Ha!" She boxed her fists in the air and crawled over onto his lap, chucking him under the chin and making him look into her face. "So what do you think?"

"I think you're crazy, and wonderful, and _crazy_, and yes, I do want to live in Twickham House with you! I have only one objection to make – you're _not_ going to take money from your parents! I don't know how much the woman wants for the house – but if it's unreasonable, we shouldn't buy it in the first place. And if it's not much more than what I got when I sold it, we _can_ afford it without your parents' help."

She smiled shrewdly. "I had actually hoped you'd say that, because I'm not overly keen on being indebted to them once again. Really, our dinners have become so much more pleasant since my mother's scared of frightening me away and has no means to put pressure on me. I do want to pay you back though –"

"Nonsense!"

"No, I mean it. I want that to be _our_ house!"

"But it'd be this way or that!"

"Don't you argue with me, you cannot win. Do we have a deal?"

He leant forth and kissed her. "Deal," he murmured between two kisses, and later, much later, after they had long moved over to the bed, "I am _flabbergasted_ that you're ready to do all this, Lorelai. Are you sure? I mean – I don't want to push you into doing something you might regret –"

"Hey, I'm the spontaneous among the two of us, and also the one more likely to do the pushing. Actually, I was quite apprehensive that _you'd_ be feeling pressured by all this."

He softly shook his head, kissed her and got up. She thought he'd fetch them some more champagne, but he went over to the small old-fashioned safe, in which he rarely kept the day's takings, but some old photo albums from his dad and his legal documents (the safe was fireproof; she supposed that was the reason, rather than him being afraid that some robber might steal the family photos). On the way back to the bed, he did fetch the champagne though, poured them a glass each and handed her one. He was hiding something behind his back and she craned her neck to have a look.

"What's that? Show me, show me!"

He settled next to her again with an uncertain face, cleared his throat a few times – thus increasing Lorelai's anticipation to a maximum degree. "Listen…" He was hoarse and cleared his throat once more. "I… I had thought I'd wait with this until – until… However, seeing this night's decisions, I – I would like to ask you whether you would – whether you would want to – to wear this again."

He showed her what he had hidden from her and her eyes widened. This was her engagement ring – her beautiful engagement ring – and suddenly, she was as hoarse as he. "You – do you mean that the way it appears on first sight…?"

"I want to become old with you, Lorelai Gilmore. I want to live with you, I never want to be parted from you again. If that's what it appears like on first sight – yeah, then that's it."

She reached out and wriggled her fingers. "Put it on, please!"

That's what he did; she watched him with bated breath, and almost choked with movement when feeling the sheer familiarity. Every ring felt a little different; the width and breadth were never exactly the same, and the longer one was wearing a certain ring, the more it formed the finger and vice versa. She had worn this ring longer than any other she had ever gotten from any man, and her ring finger 'recognised' it at once. It felt so good having it back, on the very tangible level, but all the more because of its meaning.

Only to say something, she whispered, "All good things come in threes, you know? We've come together three times. That's got to count for something."

He just nodded, stroking her hand and staring at the ring just as enthralled as she. "Look, every time we got together, or back together, I meant it to last. But this time, this separation, I mean – was different, and not just because of Christopher. I… God, I was so mad at you, at first. And even though I fully intended to nurture that grudge, it just slipped through my fingers. And I realised that I wanted you to be a part of my life, no matter how, even if I'd have to put up with your husband – and _geez_, I could never look at him without wanting to punch him in the face. But it didn't matter as long as you were there. So, I guess – I now know for certain that nothing, _nothing_ can ever make me stop caring for you."

They laced fingers, and he went on, "In my head, this moment looked a bit different. There were – well, flowers, and Rory around, and… But _you_ always said I should be more spontaneous, right, and –"

"I love you just the way you are, Luke."

He pecked a swift kiss on her mouth and smirked, "I'm a bit nervous, so please don't interrupt me, or I'll completely lose it. I – yes. I love you, Lorelai. Do you – will you – would you be my wife?"

"Yes! Yes, yes, yes!"

She completely forgot what she had told her mother just a few days ago – namely that she thought one could hardly get engaged while being technically married to someone else still. What a nonsensical notion, anyhow! He had asked her whether she wanted to be his wife, and heaven knew she did, that was what truly mattered, not _when_ they might manage this.

"You've asked me," she cried when curling up in his arms later that night.

"I thought it was my turn. Especially after – well, making that stupid remark, back then… When we met, after… And also, I had the ring still."

"I'm glad you kept it! If I had been you, I'd have – well, I wouldn't have kept it, possibly."

"Says the woman who kept an entire box with things from Max Medina a year after breaking up the engagement to him!"

She frowned. "How do you know that?"

"I heard Rory taunting you about it once."

"Oh, that's what you get when discussing all your private matters in a diner! But the thing is – I was not angry with Max. And I didn't exactly _keep_ that box either. I just collected all his stuff that was still in my house and put it in that box, and then I just somehow forgot about it until Rory brought it up." She had laughed when saying this, but now turned grave. "But you said it yourself – you _were_ mad with me. And still you kept my engagement ring."

"I was mad at you, but I didn't love you one bit less. I wouldn't have been that angry in the first place if I had loved you less. And in that moment there, the ring was the only thing I had left from you."

"Now you've got me instead of the ring. I think that sounds like a hell of a good bargain."

He smiled. "Yeah."

"And you know what's an even better deal? I got that ring _and_ you. I win."

"I like it when you make it sound as if I were a prize at a raffle."

"Oh, but you are! Would you think how many blanks I've drawn to get you!"

He chuckled under his breath and shook his head. "You know, I was right there all the time. You'd only have needed to walk into the diner –"

"Which I did for many years on a daily basis!"

He smirked. "Yes. But you were focusing on the coffee and the burgers, weren't you?"

"Your own fault, if you cook so well! But isn't it interesting that I'm a big fan of the take-away, but almost always stayed to eat in the diner, despite the famously unfriendly service?"

"Oh, but you liked the unfriendly service, admit it!"

"Of course I did! Only few men are capable to keep pace when I do my screwball act. You impressed me, Spencer!"

"I like your screwball act."

"Really?" She grinned. "And still you told me to shut up so often?"

"You wouldn't listen to me anyhow!"

"You know what? I can't tell you how relieved I was when you told me to shut up for the first time again after – well, after all this. When we were looking for a new car."

He rolled his eyes. "Don't remind me of _that_ afternoon!"

"Didn't you enjoy it?"

"_Enjoy?_ Did _you_ enjoy it, then?"

Her grin widened yet. "Tremendously. At first, it was awful, of course. But then, slowly, we got back to our old routine. You no longer tried being super-polite around me – you treated me normally again. I was _so_ glad!"

"Let me summarise this – you like me being impolite to you?"

Very earnestly, she replied, "I like you being Luke, and being around me like Luke. I like you niggling about my handbag, and my taste in cars, and all the other things – and taking me just as I am nonetheless."

"That's because I wouldn't have you any other way."

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to Alanis Morissette's song '_When We Meet Again_' from the album 'So-Called Chaos'.


	9. But Now My Own Delights I Make

* * *

**But Now My Own Delights I Make**

* * *

Richard couldn't have been more affronted, surely. Well, perhaps, if Emily had suggested to dig up the remains of his mother and donate her corpse to science – but as things were, he had hardly ever been more scandalised than he was when she told him that she had promised their daughter that they'd help her with the purchase of that house without consulting him first.

"And how do you intend to accomplish this," he scoffed, furious. "You haven't got two hundred thousand dollars either!"

"Haven't I?"

"Not without _my_ permission!"

Emily just sneered. "Ah, yes, I had thought you'd say this. But you might want to remember the money I got when my mother died, back then, which we invested in that fund for Rory –"

"You want to squander Rory's money?!"

"Squander it? Oh, Richard, pull yourself together, please. We meant to give that money to her when she turns thirty – which would mean that Lorelai has six more years to pay it back and no harm done. I also believe that Rory might be quite delighted if she knew that I'd take that money and help her mother with it – if _you_ are so keen on refusing your 'permission'!" She almost spat the last word and gave him a challenging look. "I am quite surprised about your attitude though. When you did the same, back then, you didn't even deign asking me to begin with."

Well, comments like this one didn't help to soothe his outrage. Predictably, Richard returned to sullen silence, but Emily was determined to simply endure it. She would give that money to Lorelai, come what may; she would work to have a true bond with her only child, the same sort of bond that Lorelai and Rory had, and if not exactly the _same_ – well, they'd be on truly good terms at least. She would prove to Lorelai that she wouldn't take advantage of her position of financial power, that she merely meant to support her because she had seen the light and grasped that it was her child's happiness that counted.

Early in the next morning, Lorelai gave her a call. "Mom, did you talk to your bankers already? You can stop right now."

"What?"

"Mom, I'm engaged!"

"_What?_"

"I surprised him, and told him we could get the house and that you'd help us buying it, and he – he – well, he asked me to marry him and I said yes, and –" Lorelai's voice turned almost shrill with excitement. "Anyway, it looks like you were right _again_, he does want to marry me still, he only made one demand, namely that you and I allow _him_ to purchase the house on his own, and – well, I said yes, of course."

Emily needed a moment to process this bit of news; she thought she could see through Lorelai's attempt of lulling her in, and didn't know whether she felt offended, or simply pleased. "Was that really his idea?" she asked quietly.

"It _was_, Mom," her daughter replied in a different tone, sounding quite earnest. "Though I will not deny that I didn't gladly accept it. Don't get me wrong, all right? But I truly appreciate the way things are between you and me now. That I can ask you for such an enormous amount of money, but also that I can tell you when I don't need it."

Emily gave a little, scornful laugh. "You needn't sell this to me, Lorelai. But I would like it noted that I did _not_ mean to give you the money in order to blackmail you!"

"I know this, Mom. I really do. And I want _you_ to know in turn that I stand by the terms that we spoke about, regardless whether I take the money or not. I would be happy if you advised me when we refurbish the house and all that, and that you are always welcome, day and night."

Emily didn't notice it, but fact was that she smiled broadly and in true happiness. "That's – thank you, Lorelai. This does mean a lot to me."

"And there's something else that might please you. You are the second person, right after Rory, that I have told about the engagement. I thought you might like that as well."

She laughed. "I do, actually. Congratulations, by the way! You'll get married!"

"Yes! I know! Again!" Lorelai gave a chuckle that sounded a little awkward. "And this time, you and Dad will be there and watch me exchanging the vows. It'll be a real, proper wedding, all the way through."

"I'm glad to hear it. And things might be a lot easier than otherwise – you've already got a dress," Emily tried to joke.

"No, I haven't. I destroyed it after… Well, I haven't got it anymore. I'll get a new one, and before you ask, _yes_, you can send over Miss Celine, though I won't promise to take her advice."

On the inside, Emily was jubilating. Her daughter – getting married – and allowing _her_ to partake in the preparations – telling _her_ about it before even talking to her best friends. Oh, Emily had given up allowing herself hoping for such a thing a long time ago.

"I still have that tiara, you know… I think it would look lovely on your dark hair."

"I think it would, yes. Would you lend it to me – in case it does go with the dress, of course."

Of course she would. She was also bursting to tell Richard, and after short deliberation, Lorelai agreed that it might be best if Emily informed him, seeing how negative his entire attitude was regarding her and Luke together. Initially, her mother had been delighted with that mission, but then she realised that Richard, indeed, was unlikely to take it kindly, and she got slightly apprehensive.

"I have good news for you," she began, with her most cunning smile. He looked up from his paper. "I won't have to touch the money from Rory's fund."

He narrowed his eyes, knowing her well enough to smell a snag. "Good," was his sole reply.

"Luke insists to purchase the house by himself," she went on lightly.

Richard's eyebrows rose. "Can he afford such a thing? Or will he take up a gigantic mortgage?"

"I think he can afford it. The way I understood it, he means it as a sort of wedding gift."

"Wedding gift," Richard echoed dully and his brows sank again in a gloomy fashion.

"Yes. He's asked our daughter to marry him and she said yes."

"How can she do that! She's not even properly divorced yet!" he shouted and rose to his feet.

"But why would that keep her from saying that she'll marry someone else once she's free to do so?"

He gave her a withering glance. "_You_ seem to find this amusing!"

She put on a defiant expression. "Amusing? No. No, Richard. I'm not _amused_. I am delighted! My only daughter is going to marry; she told me before she even told Sookie, she asked for my advice, she even asked for my help. For almost forty years, I have wished to have this kind of relationship to my child – a friendly, trusting relationship. I wanted to have a part in Lorelai's life and she's granting me that, at last. She's granting _you_ the same – don't be a fool and gamble it away again!"

"Emily!"

She put her hands in her hips, and even though she was so much shorter than he, her pose was quite impressive. "Deal with it, Richard," she hissed. "Don't you emulate your own mother now!"

"I beg your pardon?!"

"Your mother made me feel inadequate for her precious son during our entire marriage. She even managed that much when she was dead already! She single-handedly managed that I positively _feared_ her coming to visit. Are you seriously telling me that you mean to continue in that vein with _your_ son-in-law now? So that they'll only invite us around their house if there's no possible way around it?! Well, if that's what you're planning, don't count me in. I won't pose as the evil in-law in this scenario, I won't!"

* * *

The chapter title is a reference to William Wordsworth's poem 'To The Daisy'.


End file.
